


The Leviathan's Gift

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Loneliness, M/M, Mild Lactation Kink, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vast/Lonely Peter Lukas, Virgin Sacrifice, eldritch tentacle monster Peter Lukas, unhealthy family relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: Each year, Martin's village sacrifices someone to the monster that lives in the sea. This year is Martin's year. He has no idea what lies in store for him. That's probably for the best.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 21
Kudos: 172





	The Leviathan's Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Cuttooth and Twodrunkencelestials for their help on this fic! Cuttooth is a fabulous beta, and Twodrunkencelestials provided a lot of inspiration. <3 
> 
> The following words are used for Martin’s bits: cunt, cock, entrance, hole, slit, chest, breasts, teats

They leave Martin alone on a rocky isthmus. When the tide comes in, he will be surrounded on all sides by water. He comes willingly, but they tie him anyway—because it’s tradition, and because they can’t have him changing his mind once he sees the beast. He submits to this last indignity without complaint, letting them wind the ropes around his wrists and ankles as they tie him to a stake, so he has no choice but to wait helplessly. 

He shivers as the icy water laps at his ankles. At least he knows his mother will be taken care of, even if she scarcely noticed his leaving. He can hardly blame her. 

Each year, the creature from the sea takes a sacrifice. Usually a young maid or handsome boy, someone beautiful and talented. The sacrifice’s family is given a life of comfort in exchange for their loss, and the knowledge that they saved the village from destruction at the hands of the beast. 

Martin is not handsome, or talented. He just had nothing to lose, and no one argued when he presented himself as tribute. He only hopes the end comes quickly. No one’s ever  _ seen  _ the monster—no one who lived to tell about it, anyway. They’ve just seen the damage it wreaks in years it isn’t satisfied. 

He hopes it doesn’t like to play with its food. 

He waits for so long he nearly falls asleep, or would if not for the freezing water splashing his thighs. The sound of something heavy scraping against the rocks wouldn’t normally grab his attention, but it’s jarring in the near silence. He turns immediately to face the source.

A tentacle is emerging from the water, as thick as his thigh, with flesh the same deep blue as the ocean. Its skin is covered with iridescent scales, while the underside is lined with suckers like an octopus. The gleam of light against its scales is almost hypnotic, as its muscular body undulates toward him. Martin is so entranced by the sight that  he doesn't notice it wrapping around his legs until it tightens with a jerk, and begins dragging him towards the water. Then he screams.

His heart races as a second tentacle wraps around his waist. He doesn’t want to imagine the beast it belongs to, how big its mouth must be, or how sharp its teeth. The beast pins him to the rocks while a third, smaller tentacle crawls over his body. He shudders at the feeling of cool, slick skin against his, utterly alien. 

To his shock, the tentacle rips Martin’s shirt away from his body, leaving it in shreds and revealing his soft, vulnerable chest. He flushes with humiliation, though he doubts the beast cares what he looks like naked. It probably just doesn’t want to eat the fabric. He would hate to give it indigestion, he thinks hysterically. The tentacles slither across his body as if they’re exploring him. Tasting him. He’s beginning to wonder what they could possibly want when one of them suddenly latches onto his nipple and _sucks._ He lets out a low, involuntary moan, feeling himself grow damp in his breeches. The throb of pleasure is immediately followed by shame and fear.

“N-no,” he stammers, struggling in its grip. “Please don’t.”

Another slim tentacle wraps around his throat before prodding between his lips. When he tries to clamp them shut, it squeezes tight until he gasps, and it seizes the chance to force itself into his mouth. The monster’s flesh is firm and oozes an odd sweetness onto his tongue. He swallows without thinking, and the thing pulses, flooding his mouth with more of its nectar. His body floods with heat, from his flushed face to his throbbing cunt, and all the way to the soles of his feet. 

_ Yes,  _ comes the thought from outside of himself.  _ Good.  _

Another tentacle rips his breeches off before rubbing insistently between his thighs, making him buck against its grip. He’s never been touched there before, scarcely  _ hoped  _ to be touched there, and he can’t control the desperate sounds spilling from his throat, muffled by the tentacle thrusting into his mouth. 

The tentacle in his mouth pushes deeper, bumping against his throat, and he moans around it, a mix of terror and need. He cries out as one of the suckers latches onto his cock, sucking him like he’s the sweetest thing it’s ever tasted. Tension pools in his belly as it swipes against his sopping wet entrance. He wants it inside him. He wants to run away, so far he never sees the sea again.

He doesn’t get a choice, because something thick and rubbery pushes into his cunt, stretching him painfully. He screams around the tentacle in his mouth, and it takes that as an opportunity to thrust into his throat, making him gag at the abrupt violation. More of its nectar flows down his throat, and it's so deep he can't stop himself from swallowing. The nectar makes his cunt throb with warmth, even as tears roll down his face. 

The creature rubs his cock as it thrusts into him, making him moan and squirm helplessly. He wonders wildly if this is what it did with all the sacrifices, or just what it chose to do to him. 

Then he stops thinking entirely, because something that feels like a tongue swipes against his cock, and he comes so hard he gushes all over himself, spasming around the tentacle in his cunt. The creature doesn't slow down at all, pounding relentlessly into his throat and cunt until he whines in a futile plea for mercy. 

He tries to squirm away, but he’s still tied, and the beast is more than strong enough to keep him in place with a tentacle around around his waist. His vision darkens at the edges as the tentacle in his throat suddenly swells, shooting a load of nectar straight into his belly, before it finally withdraws. As it does, he takes great heaving gasps of air, grateful that he at least won't die from having his throat fucked. 

Then the creature prods between his cheeks, and he whimpers.

"Stop," he begs uselessly. "Please—"

He yelps as something slippery glides up his crack, leaving him startled and wet. Then it swipes deliberately around his hole, sending a shiver up his spine.

"N-no," he manages, but it slides between his cheeks anyway, the tip testing the give of his hole. "I can't—" 

The tentacle slides into his arse. This one is smaller than the others, slim and agile. It stretches him carefully with each movement, thrusting in tandem with the one filling his cunt. The creature rubs his cock again, and he clenches down on them both. 

"F-fuck!" he cries.

There's a deep rumbling sound around him, a satisfied growl, and suddenly there are more tentacles, rubbing his face, cradling his breasts, spreading his thighs as far apart as they'll go. A second tentacle joins the one in his arse, and he whines, biting his lip. The nectar makes him squirm and squeeze his thighs together, desperate to get pressure on his cock, and the creature obliges by rubbing him in time with its thrusts. It doesn't take much to send him over the edge again, coming so hard he gushes all over himself. The tentacle in his cunt pulses once, twice, three times, before filling him with its spend.

_ Mine.  _ The creature caresses the swell of his belly, and he realizes what it wants: to impregnate him. His eyes widen, and he struggles anew, but his attempts at escape only seem to excite the monster; the tentacle in his arse swells, filling him with fresh seed. 

The beast forces another tentacle between his lips, and he sucks obediently until it swells, rewarding him with more dizzyingly sweet nectar. The tentacle in his cunt recedes, and for a brief moment he thinks he’s earned a reprieve, before something even larger prods at his entrance. He spares a moment to panic before it slides in, stretching him so painfully wide that tears prickle at the corners of his eyelids. Then the creature rubs at his cock, and he's acutely aware of how wet he still is. He sobs as the creature massages the front wall of his cunt, making his thighs shake. It's not long before he's coming again, trembling in the creature's grasp as he milks every drop of seed with his spasming cunt. 

The creature doesn't stop, simply drives in even deeper, using every hole Martin has. He's not even sure it cares when he comes, any more than it cared when he screamed and tried to get away. His struggles are nothing to it. He feels himself growing limp in the thing's grasp, resigned to being used until it tires of wringing each shuddering orgasm from his body. 

Eventually everything fades away, receding like the tide, leaving nothing but merciful emptiness in its wake.

==

Martin wakes up sore all over, from his aching jaw to his abused holes. He moans softly, burying his face in something soft.

“You’re awake,” someone says. 

Startled, Martin bolts upright, and instantly regrets it as pain shoots up his spine. 

A man is standing over him, naked as the day he was born and with just as little shame. Martin flushes as he takes in his broad shoulders and the greying hair on his chest. He’s never seen another man naked before, and he can’t stop staring. The man doesn’t seem to mind. 

Martin grabs the nearest thing he can to cover himself—the silk coverlet he’d been laying on. The rich fabric is a strange contrast with the rough stone beneath him. He’s fairly sure they’re in a cave, though a well-appointed one. All around him are piles of silks and other fine fabrics; silver chalices and gold ornaments; wooden carvings; and other treasures. More wealth than he thought he’d see in a lifetime, piled carelessly on the bare stone floor. 

“Wh-who are you?” Martin rasps. His throat still aches from being used so roughly. 

“You know who I am, pet,” the man says, smiling. His eyes are the deepest blue Martin has ever seen. Staring into them feels like drowning alone in the sea, miles from anyone who could help him. Understanding dawns.

“The beast,” Martin says. 

“You can call me that if you like," the man says wryly. "Some call me Peter.”

“Who names a beast Peter?” Martin blurts out.

His captor smiled, revealing teeth that are only slightly too sharp. “Is that really the question you want to ask?”

“No,” Martin admits, casting his gaze down. “Why—why didn’t you kill me?”

Peter kneels in front of him, reaching down to cup Martin’s chin. “Why would I kill you? You’re going to do something very important for me.”

“I—I am?” Martin stares up at him, too confused to flinch away. 

Peter’s other hand moves to rest on Martin’s lower abdomen. 

“You’re going to bear my progeny,” he says, smiling gently. 

Martin recoils until his back hits the cold stone wall. “No, I’m not!”

“You came to me willingly,” Peter says calmly. “Doesn’t that make you mine? Mine to do with as I please?”

Martin bites his lip, looking away, and Peter lifts his chin up to face him.

“You were willing to die for me,” Peter says, his ocean-floor eyes fixed on Martin. “Aren’t you willing to live for me as well?” 

Martin swallows. “I never—I don’t  _ want—” _

Peter chuckles. “You didn’t want me to eat you, either, but you were quite willing to let me do it anyway, weren’t you?”

“That’s not the  _ same,”  _ Martin argues. 

Peter looks at him with something like pity. “I’ve been watching you, pet. For quite some time now. You were all alone in that village. No one appreciated you.” He brushes a stray curl away from Martin’s face.

“I wasn’t alone.”

“Right,” Peter says, unconvinced. “You had your mother, didn’t you? She hardly blinked when she found out where you’d gone. I could give you back, of course, but you don’t want that, do you?”

Martin imagines returning to the village, the first sacrifice in living memory to survive. Explaining what he did, what he let Peter do, to let him go. Facing his mother. Sending someone else to take his place. The last one makes him shudder. 

“Surely there’s something else I can do for you,” Martin says desperately. 

“You’ll do many things for me,” Peter promises. “Didn’t it feel good, before? Letting me hold you, and pleasure you, and take my pleasure from you?”

Martin shudders. Being taken by the beast made him feel many things. Pleasure was only one of them. 

“You’ll birth so many horrors,” Peter promises, leaning in to wrap Martin in his strong arms. Martin is too overwhelmed to do anything but let him. “Things beyond mortal reckoning.”

Martin considers running away as Peter gently pushes him onto his back, pinning his wrists overhead. If he could even make it out of the cave, naked and alone, with nowhere to go. He shudders as Peter croons in his ear, “You can be mine now, for all eternity. Won’t that be lovely?” Peter cups Martin’s breasts, squeezing firmly, and Martin doesn’t know how Peter’s hands manage to be everywhere, but they spread Martin’s thighs even as they stroke his hair away from his face. 

He closes his eyes, deciding not to dwell on the logistics as Peter kisses him. His mouth tastes of the salty-sweet nectar that floods Martin’s body with warmth. Something that might be a tongue laps at his inner thighs, teasing his slit. He gasps as it prods his sore entrance. 

“That hurts—”

“Shhh, I’ll make it better,” Peter promises, rubbing Martin’s cock until the pain recedes to a dull ache, and Martin’s hips roll against him, unbidden. His face flushes hotly. “Very good, pet. So good for me—”

“Don’t  _ say  _ that,” Martin argues, and Peter kisses him again, more deeply this time. Martin can feel his hard cock against his thigh. 

“You’re so perfect,” Peter says, rubbing his cock up and down the length of Martin’s wet cunt, and Martin stifles a moan. “And all  _ mine.”  _

Martin gasps as Peter thrusts into him, abruptly stretching him open. He’s still sore from before, but the angle sends sparks up his spine, making his toes curl as he fights to stay quiet. He loses the battle when something swipes against his cock, and he lets out a low whimper. 

Peter takes that as encouragement, setting a slow, deep rhythm that leaves Martin with no room for thought. Every thrust punches the air out of him, leaving him breathless and overwhelmed. 

“Peter—” he gasps.

“My good boy,” Peter praises, as if Martin’s done anything besides lie there, pinned and helpless. “You’ll be lovely when you’re filled with my progeny, won’t you?”

Peter palms the curve of Martin’s abdomen, thrusting faster. “A beautiful round belly. Teats swollen with milk. All mine.”

Martin doesn’t want to respond, but Peter angles his thrusts just  _ so,  _ tearing a sob from his throat. He does it again, and then again, rubbing firmly at Martin’s cock until he loses what little control he had, spasming hard around Peter’s cock as he comes. Peter kisses him as he fucks him through it, milking every last contraction from Martin’s cunt. Martin expects him to stop after, but he keeps rubbing until Martin’s whining and squirming, completely overwhelmed as a second orgasm crashes over him, making him gush all over Peter’s hand. Finally Peter lets go, gripping his hips tight as he spills in him with a low curse. 

Afterwards Peter holds him, and Martin has the unsettling feeling of being wrapped in something too vast to comprehend, so far away from his home that it might as well not exist. As if he and Peter were the only beings that truly existed. Peter's hands rub the swell of his belly as he croons praise and filthy promises into his ear. 

"Rest, pet," Peter orders. "You'll need it."

Martin shudders, and closes his eyes. 


End file.
